Hidoi Higure Cruel Twilight
by Arigatomina
Summary: This poem is more like a short story than anything else. Duo confesses his feelings for Heero, but he didn't mean to, and now he's convinced he's driven the boy away. Yaoi, shonen ai, 1x2


Category: Poetry (though my Creative Writing professor said it's more like a short story), Gundam Wing, Yaoi  
Pairings: 1+2/2+1  
Warnings: shonen ai, maybe slight angst, sap  
Author: Arigatomina  
Email: arigatoumina@hotmail.com  
Full Archive: www.fanfiction.net  
  
Hidoi Higure (Cruel Twilight)   
  
Thunder rumbles menacingly, shaking my foundation  
as I drown beneath the heavy onslaught of wetness and thoughts.  
My hair is plastered to my cheeks like a second, dark skin  
and the fat droplets are making patterns on the puddles,  
complex rhythms my eyes try in vain to follow   
in an attempt to distract my stubborn mind.   
  
Lightning flashes, illuminating the storm-swept sky and I close my eyes;  
the light is too bright, reminding me of his intense gaze,  
the way he stares at me, eyes boring straight to my soul.  
  
I ran as I'd once said I would. He knew I would fly so long as I had nothing to protect,  
no beloved nest of young to defend against the surge of emotions he caused in me.  
There was no reason to stay and fight a battle I had no chance of winning;  
a cruel game of roulette where all the chambers were loaded and I was the first to go.  
If I'd had the smallest ray of hope to shine through my black foreboding,  
I might have stayed.  
  
Wind rushes past the rain heavy leaves of a nearby Oak tree, reaching me  
and drilling into my bones. I want to form a cocoon of warmth with my arms,   
but I long for it to be his heat warming me; his arms rather than mine.  
  
My eyes burn, and I let my arms fall limp and lifeless at my sides,  
wrapping myself in the cold rather than my own warmth.  
I greet the chill like a cheerful hostess, inviting it to make itself comfortable,  
letting it settle in my body, replacing my mental pain with it's ice.  
Hot tears scorch my eyes and I tilt my head back,   
letting the downpour wash them off my cheeks, like a baptism washing away my sins.  
  
I was a fool to love him, but I was swept away by a river of desire,  
unable to fight the powerful current that carried me to him.  
I wish he'd been caught in the same torrential flood that I was.  
  
Knowing him, though, it wouldn't matter if he had been caught with me.  
I can imagine him calmly producing a grappling hook from thin air,  
pulling himself out and not noticing as I am washed away.  
Sometimes I think he must be as emotionless as he seems,  
that complete lack of expression on his smooth stone face.  
Like a statue of Adonis, he is perfect to look upon but hell to love.  
  
Shaking now, I sink to my knees on the wet ground,   
my saturated clothing unable to soak up any more of the liquid  
as the rain continues to fall. I close my eyes and let out a keening cry.  
  
My skin is so numb that I can't help wishing my heart could be the same;  
I want to stop loving him. If only I hadn't told him,  
then I could have stayed where he was, watching him if nothing else.  
I've done that for so long it has become an obsession,  
like the man who will sit in a tree for hours waiting for one glimpse of a rare bird.  
I was watching him when I told my secret.  
  
He was typing away on his most faithful companion;   
that bloody laptop that is always with him, it's screen laughing at me   
when I try to get his attention, the rapid clicking of the keys driving me insane.  
  
Fidgeting in the silence, I started to mess absent-mindedly with my hair,  
then he looked up. Maybe it was the way his hard expression seemed to soften  
as his eyes fell on me, maybe that is what caused me to do the unthinkable.  
Of its own accord, my mouth opened and the words flowed out,  
a nonexistent wind rising to sweep them to him before I could call them back.  
'I love you.'  
  
Head bowed as my salty tears find passage over damp cheeks,  
I remember how his face had closed up, like a door slamming shut.  
As if I were in a dream where my body ignores my commands,  
I couldn't move. We stared at each other, his deep cobalt-blue eyes holding me hostage.  
Then he blinked, and I ran.  
Shoulders trembling as if I am a leaf caught in the wind, I cry,  
  
my arms finally moving sluggishly to wrap around myself.  
The numbness creeps over me, and I don't even notice the pressure on my shoulder,  
not looking up until I feel a hand beneath my chin.  
  
Flinching, I cannot meet his gaze, so intense it hurts in the face of what has happened.  
The storm hasn't let up, and the thunder is loud in my ears, drowning his native tongue.  
I don't believe what I think I heard, convinced it was a manifestation of my hopes.  
Then he says it again, in that voice I've grown to love.  
'No baka, ai shiteru.'   
I can't believe it, I won't. I shake my head, still wincing from his intensity.  
  
'Omae wa ore no mono da.'   
Warmth fills me as I am pulled to my feet, his strong arms enfolding me as I cry.  
'Daijoubu ka ?' he asks, his voice barely reaching me as I hide my face against his chest.  
  
At first I can't answer,   
my throat constricted as more tears fall, hitting his shirt.  
As if struggling to wake, my mind swims to what he said,  
then I let out a sharp laugh, holding him as tightly as I can.  
'Hai.'   
I am more than alright, as I feel his hand on the back of my head.   
  
He may think I am his now, but all I can do is laugh as I realize he is finally mine.  
'Hai,' I say again, voice soft as I look up at him.   
I'm ready to go home.  
  
* * *  
Japanese-English translations:  
  
No baka, ai shiteru.  
You fool, I love you.  
  
Omae wa ore no mono da.  
You belong to me.  
  
Daijoubu ka?  
Are you alright?  
  
Hai.  
Yes.  
  
--notes--  
Well, I admit, I turned this in for my class without changing anything. I don't know, it doesn't *have* to be fanfiction. I think it could work as original, myself. Anyway, this was another of my attempts at poetry. I'm just too long-winded. My professor says they all sound more like stories than poems. But that's what I specialize in, stories. I'm no good at poetry. At least, that's what I'm told. I've read some long poems, though, and I don't think this is bad. On a quick note, I had Heero talking only in Japanese for a reason since it makes it more evident how the relationship would be even harder if they're from different ethnicity's. This was more for my teacher than anything. Anyway, feedback?   



End file.
